Too High a Price
by the lurker
Summary: When at last the surgeon appeared, and they all stood, Ruth was the last to move closer, fear gripping her heart.    "Who's the next of kin?"
1. Chapter 1

"Too High a Price"

"Harry, I've got it!" Tariq shouted with excitement, "I've got it!"

Harry moved rapidly toward the young man's terminal. "Show me."

"Here," Tariq pointed at the intel on his screen, "the preliminary report had it mostly right, it is a group of French terrorists operating under the guise of an export business. Chatter indicates that they are planning to flood the UK economy with enough counterfeit BPS to crash our markets in about ten days." He looked up at Harry. "I've checked it through ten different sources; it's a credible threat, Harry."

Ros joined them, looking over Tariq's available shoulder. "Names, Tariq… anyone we know?"

"Don't think so," he said, "They're surprisingly all over the age of 70… Guillaume St. Jean, Claude Lesur, Marie Tousau and Jacques Chanteille."

"Hmm," Ros mused, "nothing familiar there at all. But who's ever heard of terrorists with pensioner discounts?"

"Don't know," Tariq muttered, "I'm still working on it."

Neither of them noticed that Harry had gone three shades paler than the nearest white wall. Ruth walked over scowling at Pearce.

"Harry? You all right?"

He started out of his stupor. "Yes, yes, I'm fine."

Ros looked at him, noting the sudden pallor. "You know one of them…"

It was not a question.

"Yes," came the soft answer. "Or at least I used to. Marie Tousau. I don't know what she is now, but 25 years ago she was French Intelligence." He paused for a moment, then added, "Well, we thought she was anyway." He looked at Ros. "She turned out to be a double agent for the Russians."

Ruth read well the look on his face. "I take it this was discovered during some type of black op?"

Harry stared at her for a moment. "Yes, it was run by 6, with an assist from 5."

"And?" Ruth prompted impatiently.

"And we uncovered a much bigger international plot than we could have imagined."

Ros sounded annoyed, "Could we cut to the chase, Harry?"

"Tousau along with other members of French Intelligence were here supposedly to help MI-6 derail a suspected French terrorist. I was tasked with getting information from Tousau on the suspected assassination plot on members of the royal family. It was well known that Marie liked…well," he looked down, his cheeks coloring slightly with embarrassment, "certain types of young men, and since I wasn't part of MI-6, she had no idea I was part of security services..."

Ros had to stifle a laugh as she said, "Your part in the black op was a twinkie, Harry?"

The incredulity in Ros' voice irritated him. "Why is this so bloody impossible to believe, _Ms._ Myers?" He glared at her. "I _was_ young once you know." He caught her eyes unconsciously glancing up at the thinning hair on top of his head, and he growled, "And I had quite a mop of curly, blonde hair then as well!"

One of her eyebrows lifted, and then she smiled slightly at him. "I'd imagine that you were a handsome bugger when you were young, Harry."

Harry muttered something under his breath at her in regard to the fact that his status as a grandfather had not yet arrived, and Ruth found herself looking anywhere but at Harry as she tried to clear her mind of a young version of Harry with a head full of blonde curly hair.

"Look," Harry said, "if Marie is with these people, they are probably all working for the Russians. Tariq, any intel on when and where they are planning to release the counterfeits?"

"No, but I may have a possibility on a location they might be using as an address for their dummy export business. Maybe they're using it for storage or planning…"

Ros looked at Harry, "I'll get Lucas and check it out – "

" – No, Ros. You and I will go."

Ros was indignant, and Ruth terrified, but the same word came out of their mouths at the same time. "What?"

Harry stared at the two of them for a brief second, then looked again at Ros. "I was under the impression that I was speaking the Queen's English… Ros, you and I will go, and that's that."

"You're not a field op, Harry. Not to mention the fact that it's completely outside service protocol for an asset like you to be placed in that kind of danger on a recon mission."

Harry's hands donned his hips as he stood very close to Ros, his glare enough to freeze over hell. "I will not tell you again Agent Myers." She started to speak and he cut her off, "You may be the security chief here, but as head of Section-D, I outrank you by a bit. Now get your gear and be ready to go in five, clear?"

"Yes sir," Ros snarled before she stalked away.

Harry watched her go, and then walked into his office shaking his head. He opened a cupboard under the cabinet that served as his bar and took out a black turtleneck sweater and short black jacket. He also removed a semi-automatic 9mm pistol and set it all on his desk. He quickly removed his coat and tie, and was in the process of removing his shirt when his door slid open and Ruth walked in. She stopped dead at the sight of Harry removing his shirt. He froze when he saw the look of horror on her face, and his heart contracted with grief at the thought that she found him so repulsive.

He pulled his shirt closed and held it there. His voice was cold. "What is it, Ruth?"

She braved a glance up, praying that he hadn't noticed the desire she was certain must have flashed in her eyes before she looked away.

"S-sorry for barging in…"

His voice was short and curt, "What is it?" When he saw the hurt flash in her eyes he softened slightly. "Ruth, I don't have a lot of time, so…"

"Right." She glanced at the things on his desk and saw the gun. "Harry…"

He followed her gaze and let out a sigh. "Ruth, I'm an MI-5 operative going out in the field. I'd be an idiot not to carry one."

She took an angry few steps toward him. "That's just the point, Harry, you are _not_ a field op. And you haven't been one for close to ten years. It's too risky, Harry. Think about what you're doing."

"I am the only person here is at all familiar with one of these people—"

"—Familiar, that's a good word for it," she muttered.

He stared at her. "What?"

Her voice was soft, unsure, "I'll just never really know who you are."

He stepped close to her, his hand dropping from his shirt, causing it to lazily open. "There have been many things I've had to do in the line of duty that I…regret, Ruth. It's part of my job, it's not who I am." He moved closer, his breath almost brushing her lips. "And I promise you that I do know how to take care of myself in the field, there's nothing to worry about."

Not wanting to feel what his proximity was doing to her, Ruth's voice turned harsh, "And what about Ros, Harry? What about her?" His glare of betrayal almost stopped her. Almost. "She'll be depending upon you for her life. And what if there's trouble? Are you prepared to—"

"—Okay, that is enough, Ruth." He wasn't sure if he was angry because she was questioning his ability or because she seemed far more worried about Ros than him. "Look, I don't have time for this, so if you'll excuse me…"

She stared at him, and to punctuate his meaning, he yanked his shirt off and glared at her, bare-chested. Completely flustered by the sight of him shirtless, Ruth fluttered quickly out of the office, and broken-hearted Harry put on his turtleneck, jacket, black gloves and after checking the safety, shoved the gun in the back of his pants. He walked out onto the Grid and felt the stares of Tariq, Ruth and Lucas, but chose to ignore them in favor of Ros who was waiting for him by the pods.

His strong baritone resonated through the Grid, "Ready, Ros?"

"As ever, Harry." She looked at him before stepping into a pod. "Just promise me this won't be like the last time you and I were out in the field…"

Harry stopped in mid-stride and sighed, but chose to ignore it. The last thing he saw as he stepped through a pod was the frightened look on Ruth's face as she watched them go, and although she had been abundantly clear that her worry was not for him, he wondered if she harbored anything but contempt for him anymore. He supposed not and followed Ros out of Thames House and toward his car, heading to find someone with whom he had not only been intimate in the name of the crown, but had also exposed as a double agent.

Marie had every reason to want to see him dead, and the sudden thought that perhaps the intel had come to MI-5 all too easily struck him as he and Ros parked near a secluded warehouse...

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Ros glanced over at Harry as they moved quickly and quietly through the darkened warehouse. While she could see from his practiced movements and clean field protocol that he had been an outstanding agent in his day, she could also see that it no longer came easily, and she couldn't keep the worry from the back of her mind. Staying alive in the field required split second decisions and the physical prowess with which to carry them out. Harry's mind was as sharp as any she had ever come across, but she did not have the same confidence in the physical stamina and strength of a man his age.

She looked ahead toward the darkened hallway they were headed toward and glanced once more at him, immediately assessing his waning ability to see in limited light. She let out a shaky breath of air; damn him and his stubbornness about this op. He glanced over at her and indicated silently for her to take the lead. Rolling her eyes, she obeyed and headed down the long corridor in the dark sensing that Harry was right behind her.

* * *

Standing behind Tariq, Lucas listened closely to any sound from the comms, but as he knew it would be, there was only silence as the two operatives quietly made their way through the warehouse property. Ruth moved slowly toward her colleagues, arms crossed over her chest, taking in the deadly sound of silence.

"Is there nothing yet?" Her voice asked.

Lucas turned toward her, and felt a tinge a pity for her. "Not yet, no."

Tariq turned and smiled at her. "Relax, Ruth, silence is golden in this situation…"

She smiled at the young man, but until Harry was back on the Grid, in his office, Ruth would not be able to relax, although she would sooner swallow a box of tacks than admit such a thing aloud.

* * *

Ros found her way slowly and quietly until they reached the end of the long corridor and they could see a soft light emanating out toward them as they approached an open cargo door. She stopped quickly, ducking low, pressing herself into the dark wall, Harry following suit. The two of them eyed each other as two armed guards passed quickly by on the other side of the large open door. As the light broke through when the guards passed, Ros noticed the sheen of sweat that had broken out over Harry's forehead and upper lip, and she once again felt apprehension at his presence in the field.

She peered cautiously around the edge of the cargo door and was surprised to find nothing in the room except a table and two chairs, yet she counted five heavily armed guards. It seemed more than odd to her that there was nothing in the building for the guards to guard, so why have them there? She glanced back at Harry and held five fingers up at him indicating the number inside, he nodded, and after another look they both moved into the room, guns at the ready.

* * *

Tariq threw the receiver from his ear and rubbed it, with Lucas following suit a second later.

"What happened?"

Lucas turned toward Ruth to respond, "Comm interference, something is blocking our receiver and sending us a high pitched squeal instead."

"Does that mean they know Ros and Harry are there?"

"It could," Tariq stated calmly.

North headed toward the pods.

"Lucas?"

"I'm not sitting here and waiting for the comms to come back…."

Ruth and Tariq watched him leave and after a moment of staring at each other, they silently went back to work.

* * *

Ros was grabbed immediately upon entering the room by a guard she hadn't seen before, and the cold metal of the gun barrel against her temple was unmistakable. Harry stood, pointing his gun at the guard.

"Let her go," he growled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Pearce," the guard's slightly accented voice said.

If Harry was surprised by being addressed directly, Ros couldn't tell. Pearce didn't move, his gun still trained on the guard's head, but the other guards were slowly moving toward them, guns trained on Harry.

"I will kill her," the guard said.

"And I'll kill you," Harry snarled. "Now let her go."

A feminine voice from Harry's left cut in, "Nice to know you haven't changed a bit, Harry."

His eyes did not move from his target, but he responded, "I'd say I've missed your voice, Marie, but I'd be lying."

He could hear the smile in her voice, "But that's what we do for a living, lying, isn't it Harry?"

Pearce kept his attention trained on the guard holding the gun to Ros' head. "Let her go."

"You can't win here, Harry," Marie said, "you are hopelessly outnumbered and you know it."

"You might be surprised how many of you I can take with me, Marie."

"Actually Harry, I wouldn't," her accented voice replied, "but do you really think I've gone to all this trouble just to kill you before we've had a chance to chat?" She paused for effect, then said, "Besides, my dear, we both know that you won't allow your pretty little colleague to be killed in cold blood right in front of you, don't we; I've heard you're particularly fond of this one in any case. So why don't you put down your nasty little gun and we can have a little talk, hmm?"

Harry's eyes landed squarely into those of Ros, who was silently pleading with him to pull the trigger no matter the outcome for her. But the truth of the matter was that Marie Tousau was right; Harry Pearce couldn't bear to see Ros Myers killed - he would not have been able to see any of his team killed right in front of him when he had the power to stop it.

As she could see his resolve crumbling, Ros cried out to him, "Harry, don't! Don't give in!"

His eyes never left hers as he released the trigger and slowly set the gun down on the floor. He saw her dark eyes go from steeled determination and confidence in him to disappointment and anger. In her eyes he could see that he had failed her. He looked down at the floor.

"I'm sorry, Ros…"

"Take them," Marie's voice commanded, "and soften him up a little. I don't want him too feisty for our chat."

Marie floated out of the room as the guard holding Ros pulled her arms behind her, securing them with a plastic tie that was uncomfortably tight. Two large men grabbed Harry roughly, securing his hands as well. And to Ros' horror, the two burly men began to beat him. Ros struggled hard against the guards holding her, but she couldn't break loose.

"Stop!" Ros yelled at them. "God Harry…"

The beating went on for a good ten minutes, until Harry had fallen unconscious in a heap on the floor. Without being able to check him, Ros couldn't tell how bad off he truly was, except to see the bruises on his face and the blood on the floor under him that was pouring out of the gash on his cheek. They didn't give her much time to think about it as they threw a black hood over her head and dragged her screaming at them from the room.

* * *

Lucas arrived at the warehouse and checked Harry's car only to find it abandoned. He quickly and quietly made his way into the building and determined that he was about 30 minutes too late…

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Tariq's eyes flashed to Ruth's briefly before he addressed Lucas, "Results on the blood sample you brought back from the warehouse confirm that it's Harry's." He looked quickly at Ruth, "Sorry."

"H-how much blood was there, Lucas?" She asked tentatively.

Lucas' brow furrowed. "Enough for him to be hurt, Ruth, not enough for him to be dead."

It was all he could offer her in terms of comfort. It wasn't enough, but it was all he had.

She nodded, then focused on the task at hand. "And now?"

"Now we try and piece together where they might have taken them," Lucas said evenly. "There was nothing in the building to indicate that any kind of counterfeiting operation had ever been in place there, although it was certainly large enough to handle such."

"What are you suggesting?" Ruth asked, forcing her voice not to give away just how frightened she truly was.

"What if it was all for show?" He had their attention, so Lucas continued, "We did come upon the intel rather easily, don't you think Tariq?"

The younger man shrugged. "Sometimes intel does come easily, sometimes not. Hard to say based on that. I can go back over the steps though to see if I can find a different trail to follow."

"Do it," Lucas commanded.

Tariq nodded and left the room.

Lucas looked into Ruth's eyes. "Harry's a lot tougher than he looks, Ruth…"

"A decade behind a desk, Lucas. He's not really been out in the field in ten years."

"But he has withstood a certain amount of torture within the past ten years, yes?" She regretted the sudden emotional onslaught brought on by his words, but managed to nod. "He's tough, Ruth, and let's not forget that Ros is with him, and she's no one to tangle with. The first mistake they make, Ros will take advantage of it."

"I know," Ruth agreed biting her lip slightly before she stood. "I'm going to help Tariq. Perhaps working together we might uncover something helpful quicker that way."

"Right," he said, "I'm going to contact the home secretary," he explained quickly off her look, "just protocol Ruth, but Harry's been taken. I have no choice."

She nodded but didn't trust her voice to speak.

* * *

For the thousandth time Ros paced the cement cell. She had no idea where her prison was located nor if Harry was anywhere nearby, nor for that matter how bad off he was, or if he was even still alive. Replaying the recent events in her mind, Ros surmised that they were still in England based upon the sounds she had heard in the lorry ride from the warehouse to wherever she was now being held, and based upon the amount of time that had lapsed to arrive there. She had been stripped of all comm and other equipment and had to assume that it was the same for Harry.

The woman Marie Tousau was an interesting character to contemplate, and based upon the small amount the woman said at the warehouse, Ros wondered if there really was any counterfeit operation, or threat of French terrorists flooding the English market with it. It had sounded rather personal actually, as a vendetta against Harry. A frown covered her fair features; a lot of trouble to go to just to get back at him for his outing her mole status 25 years ago. The pieces just didn't fit. Her pacing resumed as she once again looked for any clue to escape or at least to determining her current location. The leaky water pipe running along one of the walls with its constant drip of cold water didn't help the freezing condition of the cell, but Ros knew its source of water would at least keep her alive.

The sudden scream from somewhere nearby shook her to the core, for she recognized the strangled tone as none other than Harry's…

* * *

The electric rod sent another powerful jolt into his body and he screamed. His body shook with the electricity sent through it, and his joints ached from the chains holding him suspended from the ceiling, and the water he had been sprayed with to make the electricity conduct through him easier dripped slowly off of him. He was still wearing his pants, but had been stripped of everything else. His mind was hazy, but he wondered where Ros was and if she were all right, but the next jolt of joules sent him into darkness once again…

* * *

Ruth slammed the file folders down on the desk. "Damnit, Tariq, you haven't given me anything significant to look at. There is nothing in here that moves us any closer to finding them."

Tariq looked like a deer caught in the headlights and Lucas came to his rescue, putting a calming hand on Ruth's arm. "Ruth," his soft voice said, "why don't you take a break? You've been at it non-stop for 14 hours."

"So have you."

"Yes, but I'm not as emotio—" he stopped himself and then continued, "I might have a little more clarity right now."

"W-what are you implying Lucas?"

"I'm implying nothing, Ruth, except that perhaps where Harry is concerned I might be a little less… attached and more able to maintain professional distance."

"Professional distance?" Her voice was beginning to rise in anger, "I resent that, Lucas. Harry is my boss, same as you. Nothing more."

His eyebrows raised at her, but he decided to diffuse the emotion. "Ruth, we're all worried about him in this; we just need to stay calm and not take out our concern on each other."

She let out a long sigh of air, for on this matter, he was correct. "You're right… you're right, I'm sorry." She looked at the young computer genius, "Tariq, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take any of it out on you. I'm just… I'm just worried about them both."

"I know," Tariq said kindly, "it's all right."

"Let's get back to work," Lucas suggested. "The longer we leave them out there, their chances lessen…"

That thought struck terror in Ruth's heart, but she forced herself to go back to her desk and begin anew sifting through endless files and chatter…

* * *

Ros had dozed slightly when the door to her cell opened, and she jerked awake. A guard with an automatic weapon stepped in and pointed it at her, indicating she should not move. Two other guards tossed Harry's body to the floor of her cell, and then they quickly left, slamming the door shut behind them. Ros wasted no time going to him, and fearing the worst, she checked for a pulse. To her relief, there was one, albeit a slow and thready one. Gently she rolled him over onto his back.

"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?"

He didn't respond, which as she assessed his injuries didn't surprise her. She carefully ran her hands down his bloodied and bruised torso and felt at least two broken ribs. Continuing her check round his back, she guessed that one or both kidneys had been bruised, and at least one back rib had cracked. She let out an uneven breath of air, swallowing hard; if he was going to survive, she could not afford to wait any of this out; there was no way to know if his lungs had been damaged or if there were other internal injuries. She took her shoes and socks off, putting the shoes back on, and then fit her socks onto his bare feet as best she could. She removed her jacket and covered his bare and bloodied chest with it, then pulled off her sweater and removed the t-shirt underneath, putting the sweater back on.

She tore the t-shirt into strips and separated them into longer and shorter ones. She took one of the smaller ones over to the leaky pipe on the wall and dampened it with water. Ros knelt next to Harry and carefully began to wipe the blood and sweat from his face. He stirred slightly with a miserable moan.

"Harry?"

He cried in pain as he became more fully conscious and Ros took his outstretched hand in her own. "It's all right, Harry, I'm here."

"Ros?"

"Mmm, yes." She ran a soothing hand over his forehead, then gently set the hand she was holding down, and returned to the task of cleaning his wounds, moving down his torso and arms. "You're going to be all right, Harry," grimacing inwardly, knowing how unhelpful and patronizing her words were.

It was difficult for him, but he uttered, "Where…?

"I don't know, Harry. A few hours drive from the warehouse, no more."

"Still in England then," his unsteady voice said.

"Yes."

She rolled him slightly onto the side she thought was less damaged so she could clean his back and he winced.

"Sorry."

"S'all right," he mumbled, "no real way to avoid it."

"No, I suppose not."

She cleaned up the cuts on his back and gently rolled him over again, trying to lessen the pressure on his damaged ribs; for his part, Harry tried unsuccessfully to keep from grimacing.

"How bad is it?" He asked her.

"It's not good, Harry," she answered gently as she covered him once again with her jacket.

"This room monitored?"

"I haven't found anything," she answered, "but we have to assume it is, yes."

He nodded and watched her as she took another small strip of t-shirt over to the pipe, allowing it to fill with enough water to make it drip. She knelt next to him again.

"Open your mouth, you need some water."

He did as he was told and Ros squeezed the excess water from the cloth into his mouth. After several times of repeating the process he nodded at her, indicating it was enough for now. His eyes felt heavy and they fluttered slightly as he fought the overwhelming pull of sleep. Ros lifted his head off the freezing floor, sat down, and put his head into her lap.

"Close your eyes, Harry. Get some rest."

He nodded slightly and felt her hand begin to stroke his brow, and within moments he was lulled into a troubled sleep.

* * *

Marie watched the two MI-5 operatives on the small screen in front of her and turned to the man standing at the door.

"Milo, give them an hour and then I want the woman brought to me."

"Oui, Madame," he responded before leaving the room.

She looked back down at the sleeping form of Harry Pearce. How long she had waited to even the score with him…


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

For the fifth time in 45 minutes, Harry had moaned painfully in his sleep, and Ros was at a loss to help calm him. She reached a hand under his neck and gently massaged the tense muscles there.

"Easy does it, Harry." His eyes fluttered open and she could easily see the misery in them. "Hurts too much to sleep, eh?"

"Yeah," was all he managed to say between gritted teeth.

"Would moving you help?"

He shook his head, "No…"

"Lucas won't leave us here," she whispered softly into his ear, hoping that whatever listening devices might be in the room were not good enough to hear, "you know he'll come for us."

Harry managed a nod before a wave a pain forced another moan out of him. Ros' mouth pulled into a straight line as worry filled her features; there was really nothing she could do, but she hated being so helpless with Harry in so much pain. There were few people in the world that she adored as much as Harry Pearce, although she would sooner chew on glass than tell him so. While she was well aware of the spook side of him that was capable of almost anything in the name of _Regnum defende _and the saving of innocents, she admired him because he was one of the kindest and most forthright souls she had ever known; a man with a true conscience. If anything would be his undoing some day, Ros Myers was certain it would be that.

The door to the cell opened suddenly, and one of the guards pointed a gun at her. "Let's go."

"What about him?" Ros asked.

"Leave him." When she hesitated, the guard pointed the gun at Harry. "Move, now, or you won't have to worry about him."

Ros gently lowered Harry's head to the floor and stood, and as she passed by the guard with the gun, she leaned into his ear. "If anything happens to him whilst I am gone, no matter what else transpires, I will personally see to it that your testicles are removed with a dull knife and fed to a pack of dogs."

He looked into her eyes and knew she meant it. Ros followed the guard at the door while the one behind her, still feeling the tug in his groin, locked the door behind them.

* * *

Marie Tousau sat behind a large wooden desk in the room to which Ros was guided. Ros assessed the woman as in her earlier 70s, although she looked ten years younger, faultless taste in clothing and interior design, but when Myers gazed into the light green eyes, she could see nothing but hate and venom. Ros noted that such unabashed hate could prove a weakness if used in the right way…

Tousau waved to a chair across the desk. "Ms. Myers, do sit."

Ros did as she was bid, saying nothing.

"I do hope that you've found your accommodations satisfactory," she smiled smoothly, "it was the best we could sort given the circumstances."

Ros returned the false smile. "I'd prefer something more along the lines of this room, but I suppose the royal suite you've provided will have to do."

"Touché," Marie acknowledged. "You are so very much Harry Pearce's type."

Ros frowned. "If you mean his type of field agent, perhaps; if you are implying that there is something more between us, you could not be more mistaken."

"I'm implying _Agent_ Myers, that Harry likes strong-minded women. He likes an equal, not a subservient sycophant to wipe his drool."

Ros smiled again, taking in the woman's tone and choice of words, making note of what might come into play later. There was definitely a history between them more than Harry had indicated in the briefing back on the Grid.

"Why exactly are we here, Ms. Tousau?"

"Straight and to the point, I like that Ms. Myers… Oh, may I call you Ros?" Myers shrugged, so Marie continued, "Ros it is then. Actually, getting you as part of the deal was an added bonus, I was frankly only looking to get Harry."

"Why?"

"We have some unfinished business, you see."

Ros smiled. "Yes, he mentioned that he outed you 25 years ago. A Russian double agent amidst French Intelligence… impressive."

"Is that what he told you?" Marie laughed. "Well, I guess I shouldn't have thought he would have told you _everything._"

"Harry's many things, Ms. Tousau, but a liar is rarely one of them."

"Oh how loyal, my dear girl. He has rather fooled you with his sense of patriotism and the British way, hasn't he? Neither here nor there, I should think." She smiled at Ros. "You should have seen him then, Ros, he cut quite the handsome fellow in a Savile Row suit. But then I don't think much has really changed except that he's rather lost his hair and he's filled out a bit. I'll wager he still wears Savile Row suits though." Her smile grew wider, making Ros shudder slightly. "It's always been quite easy for Harry to keep women on a string you know…"

"Actually, no, I don't know that."

Tousau smiled at the younger woman, inwardly applauding her poise for not rising to the bait. "Poor girl, he really does have you fooled into believing that he is what he pretends to be."

"And what is that?"

"An overworked, dedicated servant of the government, I should think. Does he pretend to be forthright and sincere in his desire to save 'the people?' And yet I'm sure you've seen him do more than one unsavory thing in his position as grand-poobah of Section D. How many times has he killed in cold blood do you think?"

Ros had to hand it to the old bat, she was outlining every last thing that might plant a hint of a doubt in a younger, less experienced operative; but in this case, she was wasting oxygen.

"You know, Marie," Ros smiled smoothly, "I may call you Marie?" The woman nodded and Ros continued, "While on another day over some tea at the Dorchester I might find this amusing, can we just shake loose of the pretentious bloody bullshit and get to the point?"

The annoying smile on Ros' face never wavered and for the first moment she caught sight of the irritation on Marie Tousau's face.

"Aren't you full of surprises dear? Well," Marie said as she stood, "I have so enjoyed our little chat, but I think I've taken all I'm going to from this little meeting." She looked up at one of the guards. "Milo, do escort our guest back to her 'room' please…"

Ros stood and followed Milo to the door, where she turned back for good measure. "I must warn you, Madame Tousau, that whatever you might be planning, MI-5 will see to it that you are not successful. And if this is, as I suspect, just a petty payback to Harry for exposing you for the pitiful little gnat that you are and I'm guessing for tricking you into having feelings for him, you'd better be sure I'm good and dead before you do anything more to him because unlike Harry, I don't feel remorse when I stamp out the dregs of society."

Ros turned on her heel and followed Milo out into the hall, and back toward the cell in the basement. She didn't hear the promise that Tousau vowed to the air.

"Be careful what you wish for, Agent Myers."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Ruth was more frustrated than she could ever remember being – at least in recent times. They were running out of possible leads and so far there had been nothing, bloody nothing to indicate where Harry and Ros were being held. They had discovered an abandoned lorry on the A22, that while containing no other clues, had more of Harry's blood in the back of it. The thought of it made Ruth shudder. What if he was bleeding to death at that very moment? Ruth slammed her eyes shut against the onslaught of terrifying emotions that were swirling about in her head and heart.

She could not afford to think like this, and she knew it. She needed to focus on the possibility of finding him. Finding them, she corrected herself. She couldn't stop thinking that the last thing she'd done was argue with him in his office, telling him how unfit for field work he was and that if he weren't careful he'd probably cost Ros her life. It had been so unfair of her, and all for the most selfish of reasons: to keep him from suspecting the true emotions that had been just under the surface of it all.

The two of them wasted so much time grappling for balance. And that's what it was, really, trying to stay balanced. If she looked at it honestly, Ruth knew she'd have to admit that the biggest problem between them was that they were both over-grown control freaks who hated feeling out of balance – and the emotions they stirred in each other toppled any sense of symmetry or balance. Why had they been so stupid? A bloody waste on both their parts, she noted.

They had made no progress since finding the lorry on the A22 heading toward Eastbourne. Tariq had begun checking all lines of chatter and possibilities given that new piece of information, as had she and Lucas. The three of them had worked tirelessly for more than 48 hours, and still they had nothing that could bring them any closer to where Harry and Ros were being held. A building-to-building search by the local police might have yielded more. Ruth's heart felt heavy. What if this time they weren't going to be lucky? What if this time Harry wasn't going to come home?

Home. It was an odd way to think of the Grid, but as she reflected on it, that was exactly how Ruth Evershed perceived it. And there was only one reason that she felt like that about it, and she honestly didn't know if she could take it if he didn't return. She had taken leaving him because she knew he'd be all right and she knew he'd continue on without her. But this, no, she couldn't take losing him.

And so she prayed to a God in whom she wasn't sure she believed, but for the moment was all she had to confide in.

* * *

Ros had positioned herself against a wall near where Harry lay, fearful of trying to move him. It had been at least 12 hours since her run-in with Marie Tousau and the temperature had dropped at least another ten degrees in the cell, and as she looked over at the shivering figure on the floor, Ros knew she was going to have to do something and soon or he wasn't going to make it. She was mystified as to what the woman was waiting for; if she simply wanted to kill Harry, she would have done so by now. But the truth of the matter was if Tousau didn't make a move soon, it would be too late.

She scooted over to Harry, and placed a hand on his forehead, which was burning hot despite the cold dampness of the room and his lack of coverings save for her jacket. He moaned at her touch and Ros had to take a steadying breath to stay strong; it was more than just difficult for her to see him so vulnerable. The fever and chills he was suffering confirmed Ros' fear that there were untold internal injuries. She lifted his head into her lap and rubbed her hands up and down his arms trying to ease the shivering.

"Hang in there, Harry," she whispered to him, "just a little while longer and I'm sure our team will find us."

"Ruth?" His feverish mind muttered aloud.

Ros brushed her hand over his forehead. "Shhh, Harry, it's Ros."

His eyes opened, but Ros could see they were glazed over with fever. "Where's Ruth?"

She swallowed hard. "She's not here just now, Harry. You'll have to settle for me, I'm afraid."

His left hand reached out for her and she grasped it tightly. "Don't mind."

She closed her eyes for a moment to still her own fright. His delirium was indicative of his condition worsening and Ros didn't know how much longer he would be able to hold out against his injuries.

The door of the cell suddenly jerked open, and Ros suddenly knew exactly why they had been waiting so long: Tousau had been waiting for a personal piece of information with which to torture him, and in his feverish state, Harry had delivered it to her. Three guards entered, one holding a weapon on Ros.

"Move," he growled.

Ros gently lowered Harry's head, and stood. The other two guards roughly picked Harry up, causing him to scream in pain.

"Be careful with him, damn you," Ros screamed. "There's no reason to make it worse for him!" They started out with him, and Ros' heart filled with fear. "Where are you taking him? What are you doing?"

They ignored her and slammed the door shut, locking her in with only her imagination regarding what they might be planning for him. And for the first time in a long time, Ros Myers cried.

* * *

Harry awoke in what he thought had to be some kind of delirious dream. He was warm, dry and didn't feel as much pain as he had been feeling. As the cobwebs began to clear away, he realized he was in a soft bed in a warm room under a feather duvet. His eyes scanned the room, but it was completely unfamiliar to him. He tried to sit up but the movement brought a searing pain in his chest, so he abandoned any further thoughts of moving around. Then the panic filled him: where was Ros? Hadn't Ros been with him? Or had it been Ruth? That last thought sent him to a sitting position despite the pain and he was struggling to free himself of the covers when the door to the room opened and Marie Tousau walked in.

"Harry, dear," she said as she approached the bed, "just relax, and don't move around so much. The morphine I gave you is good, but it's not that good. Any sudden movements are going to hurt tremendously in addition to possibly causing further damage, so I encourage you against that."

In defiance he yanked the covers completely off only to discover he was completely naked under the duvet.

"Oh shit," he muttered.

"It's all right dear," Tousau cooed as she admired him, "but you forget," she continued as she pulled the covers up, "I've seen it all before."

Harry felt bile fighting its way up from his stomach, but managed to swallow it back down. He stopped resisting and lie still, once again covered in the warmth of the duvet.

"What do you want, Marie?" His voice sounded weak, tired.

"You know darling, it might behoove you to be a little nicer. After all, I could kill you quite easily, you know."

He smiled at her. "In my present condition that's neither saying much nor is it a deterrent."

"Do you feel the same way about your little harlot downstairs?"

"Agent Myers need not be involved in this, Marie. And she is a very fine agent, not a harlot."

"Hmm, but you wouldn't want to be the cause of her untimely demise, would you, Harry?"

"Of course not," he snapped, some of the strength and fight returning to his voice. "But Ros does understand the risks of her employ."

"Of course she does, darling. But what about Ruth?" She looked at him and saw the flicker of panic in his eyes. "Do you feel the same way if it's Ruth?"

"Ruth? I don't know who you're talking about, Marie."

"Dear Harry, I'm afraid you called for her in your delirium. So who is she, Harry? Girlfriend? Friend with benefits? Sometime lay? Cheap hooker?"

"Shut up, Marie."

"Struck a nerve, didn't I?" She sat on the edge of the bed next to him. "You were such a tease when you were young, Harry. Have you become an easy target for the young girls now that you're more _mature_?"

"I was on an op, doing a job, Marie. It was 25 years ago, and it doesn't seem like it ended that badly for you. After all, you're still bloody here…"

"I'm here all right, after six years in a French prison, and an escape back to Russia only to discover that I had been written off not only by the KGB but also by my husband."

"Didn't know you were married, Marie… surely didn't seem like it."

She resisted the urge to slap his face. "Keep it up Harry, and I'll gather both Ros and Ruth up here and kill them while you watch."

"Stay away from them, Marie. They've nothing to do with any of it. For Christ's sake, they were barely out of nappers 25 years ago."

She leaned over him and caressed his face with her hand and then his lips with her fingers. "You're still very sexy when you're angry, Harry…" She leaned close to his lips. "Fancy a remembrance?"

"Get off from me, Marie," he spat. "I wasn't interested then, and I sure as hell am not now."

"Wasn't interested then? That's not how I remember it." She glared at him. "You were ready to get on the next plane with me to Moscow. And that very afternoon, after we made love all morning, I called my—"

She stopped herself, but it was too late, Harry understood.

"So that's what happened… you called your husband and told him there was someone else."

"Because there was," she hissed. "Or at least I was led to believe so."

He smiled at her. "Sorry to have caused such a row, Marie. But I have to tell you, you were one of the easiest marks I ever had in my career." His smile grew. "And one of the worst lays."

The sound of her hand meeting the flesh of his face reverberated in the room. She began to scream with such frustration that he was almost sorry he had provoked her. But it was the only way to make her angry enough to possibly now do something incredibly stupid. But as she was swinging her fists into his already battered body, Harry was thinking better of the decision he had made…

* * *

Ros stood as she thought she heard bloody-curdling screams. But then realized they were not the kind wielded by untold pain; these were the kind brought on by the frustrations of unrequited passion. And a smile curved her lips as she realized what must have caused it.

"Give her hell, Harry," Ros whispered into the air.

* * *

Tariq yawned the yawn of someone who had been deprived of sleep for three days. He glanced over at Lucas who was staring into his computer terminal, unwilling to give up the chase. Ruth was at her desk, but her head was buried in her hands and her shoulders were shaking slightly. Tariq swallowed hard. Ruth was taking it even worse than he had imagined she might and no matter what avenue they had followed, nor what they had tried, they had come up empty. They'd been gone for three days; it wasn't looking like a good outcome based upon the probability odds.

"There it is," Lucas muttered, "There it is! There it bloody is!"

Tariq moved quickly over to Lucas to peer over his shoulder and after wiping away her tears, Ruth joined them as well.

"Here," Lucas pointed at a post made on an open forum called 'Beyond Cougars' by someone with the handle of 'BodyGuard' which read:

_Hey Weasel13, I've got your gig beat! The daft 70-something I work for has spent I don't know how many millions to make a 50-something spook pay for some bad business that they were into before we were even born. Turns out he not only has no interest now, he didn't then either. But the bright side is the cute blonde he brought with him – she's a real looker… wouldn't mind havin' a go at that!_

"That's got to be it, Lucas!" Ruth said, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

Lucas stood and shoved Tariq in his chair. "It looks like an internet café posting, can you pinpoint the location?"

"I'm sure I can. It'll take a little bit though."

Lucas schooled his voice to remain calm, but he knew after reading the post that they did not have much time. "Just do it quickly, Tariq, all right?"

"Sure, Lucas, sure…"

Lucas moved away but Ruth caught his arm. "What is it you haven't said, Lucas?"

"Ruth, we have to prepare for—"

"—No, don't candy-coat it, Lucas. Just tell me."

"Judging by the post, I'd say Harry and Ros are about out of time." Ruth looked crestfallen. "Sorry, but there it is."

He patted her arm and walked away, leaving Ruth to stave off her impending tears.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The door to the freezing cold cell opened and two guards tossed Harry's body roughly to the floor, slamming the door shut without so much as a look at Ros, and she knew it meant they were about out of time. She moved quickly to Harry who had only a pair of shorts on, fresh marks on his chest, and a re-opened gash on his forehead. Sighing, Ros removed her jacket once again and placed it over him, although there was now no way to adequately cover him. She dabbed at the fresh blood on his forehead with a piece of torn t-shirt, and shook her head at how translucent his skin was from the ghostly shade of white he had turned.

He stirred, opening his eyes. "Hello Ros…"

She had to smile at the greeting and responded in kind, "Hello, Harry."

"Miss me while I was gone?"

"Not in the least; just worried that you were infuriating Marie to the point where she might kill you, or worse." On his questioning look, she continued, "I heard a few rather frustrated screams from above…"

"Mmm, yeah, I did manage to try her patience somewhat."

Ros put her hands on either side of his face and inspected the cuts and bruises. "Looks like she got in a few nicks as well."

"I suppose," he muttered tiredly. He reached up and stopped her hands from cleaning up his face, holding them in a grip that surprised her in its strength. "Ros, you need to leave me now."

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

He pitched his voice soft and low, pulling her hands into his chest. "Ros, we both know I'm fading, and pretty soon the last of the effects of the morphine I was given will wear off and I doubt I'll have much lucidity once that happens. You need to let me go, and get out while you can."

"Even if I were willing to leave you here, Harry, which I'm not, how in the hell do you propose I get out? Chew through the cement walls?"

Her insistent sarcasm made him smile, even now. "While that presents a most charming picture, Ros, we both know you could have gotten out of here some time ago, but you were worried about what would happen to me." Her eyes darted away from his, and he gently guided her chin back to look at him. "Ros… you need to go, now."

"Not without you, Harry, no."

"Ros, damnit, now is not the time to be a stubborn and willful child—"

"—Child? I am hardly—"

"—Shush," he smiled at her, "it's just that occasionally you remind me of my daughter, Catherine. If we had time, Ros, I would have liked to have told you about her, but as it stands, time is of the essence. I am running out of it, and your window of opportunity is probably closing, so…"

She felt her eyes begin to fill, and anger took over her features. "Damn you, Harry." She glared into his eyes. "No matter what you say to me, I'm not leaving you here." She broke away from him and stood, banging on the door, yelling excitedly. "Help! Guard! Help! I think he's dead! Help me!"

A muffled voice yelled through the door. "Back away from the door."

Ros backed away and behind the door. As it opened, she grabbed the muzzle of the gun as it entered and pulled with all her might. The guard stumbled into the room and tripped over Harry, falling head first into the cement wall. The next guard followed and Ros smashed him in the head with the butt of the first one's weapon. She looked down at Harry and caught her breath at the sight of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

She leaned down to him, placing a tender hand on his chest. "Harry?"

He looked up at her, the anguish in his eyes apparent. "Well done, Ros," he whispered, "that's my girl." She looked at him, surprised at the turn of phrase, and his smile deepened as he put a hand over hers. "I know how much you miss your father, Ros, and I'm sorry for that… but I know that he'd be very proud of you because I am." He saw the tears forming in her eyes and squeezed her hand. "Go now, Ros."

"Harry…"

"Go. Now."

With what little strength he had left, he shoved her away.

Ros cocked the weapon she was holding and headed for the door, where she turned back. "You be sure you're here when I get back, Harry, or I'll be _really_ unpleasant…"

* * *

Ruth yelled to be heard above the sound of the helicopter, "When the home secretary finds out you've nabbed a military helicopter for MI-5 use, you'll lose your job, you know."

Lucas looked at her. "Probably."

"We still might not make it in time," she said sadly.

"Probably not."

"But if we do, Harry's going to kill you for this."

Lucas smiled at the thought. "Probably.

Ruth fidgeted with her watch, unable to stay still. "How much longer?"

Lucas looked at his watch. "About ten minutes or so until we touch down at Glyndebourne."

"How far is that from Lewes?"

He patted one of her fidgeting hands. "A lot closer than London. Glyndebourne is the nearest place with a large enough landing space." She nodded and swallowed hard. "He's tough, Ruth. So is Ros."

"I know." She swallowed hard again. "But that doesn't guarantee survival…"

* * *

Taking out the rest of the guards had not been much of an issue for Ros knowing that none of them were anywhere near Harry. She made her way quickly toward the upstairs room in which she had met Marie, and she froze as she put her hand on the door when she heard the trigger of a gun being cocked.

"Well, well, look who we have here," Marie sneered.

Ros said nothing, she just remained facing the door, waiting for an opportune moment.

"Drop the weapon and turn around, Ros, slowly."

Myers dropped the weapon, and turned slowly. The two women stared at each other for a long moment.

"Well Marie, what now? Do you just shoot me standing here in cold blood?"

"Nothing quite so crass, Agent Myers, no. Let's go downstairs and visit with Harry, shall we?"

"He's dead, Marie," Ros said blankly.

Marie stared at her. "I don't believe you, my guards would have notified me."

Ros smiled. "Your guards are incapacitated, Marie, hardly in a position to talk…"

"Still, let's take the trip downstairs and find out…"

* * *

"Does this thing go any faster?"

Lucas could hear the panic in Ruth's voice, and he tried to calm her. "Our ETA is five minutes, Ruth…"

He thought he heard what was tantamount to a growl from her, and he pressed a little harder down on the gas pedal.

* * *

Marie and Ros entered the small cement cell to find Harry unconscious on the floor. Marie indicated him with the muzzle of her gun.

"Wake him."

Ros sighed and knelt on the floor next to him. "Harry?" There was no response. "Harry?" She felt for a pulse, and relief flooded her when she found it, but it was very slow and weak. She took one of his cold hands in between hers. "Harry, you still with me?" He moaned painfully and Ros looked at Marie. "He's not going to come around, Marie, he's barely alive."

"Then I guess it's time to put him out of his misery."

Marie took aim, and Ros prepared to leap in front of the shot. Both of them froze at the sound of a voice from the door.

"Touch the trigger and you die," Lucas barked.

Ros felt relief wash over her upon hearing Lucas' voice, and she rubbed Harry's cold hand in between hers. "Stay with me Harry, help's arrived…"

"Ms. Tousau," Lucas barked, "put the gun down, now."

Marie sighed. It had all come down to this moment. It was her moment to take back what he took from her. She took aim and squeezed the trigger. Lucas fired, dropping Marie where she stood, and Ros covered Harry's body with her own, the bullet hitting her upper arm where it was covering Harry's chest.

"Ros!"

"I'm all right, Lucas," Ros replied, getting up slowing cradling her arm, "but we need to get Harry to hospital immediately, he's in a bad way and barely holding on."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7 & Epilogue

**Chapter 7 & Epilogue**

Lucas called for an ambulance that would take them to the helicopter at Glyndebourne, and he sat Ros down carefully leaning against the wall. Ruth entered the room, and upon seeing Harry lying so deathly still and pale, couldn't keep her tears at bay. She knelt next to him, feeling for a pulse, which was barely there. Taking his hand into hers, she leaned close to him.

"Harry… my God, Harry." She ran her free hand over his forehead and through the curly hair on the back of his head. "Don't leave me, Harry. Please don't leave me," she whispered through her tears. "I need you to come home. With me."

But he didn't answer, and Ruth sat on the cold floor, stunned by Harry's condition, holding his hand until the EMTs arrived. Lucas and Ros watched silently as the EMTs worked on him, and finally carried him to the ambulance, Ruth never leaving his side. She held his hand during the helicopter ride and only let go at the hospital when Harry was taken to surgery. Ruth sat rigidly still in the waiting room while Lucas paced, Tariq slept and Ros dozed, her shoulder in a sling from her own wound. When at last the surgeon appeared, and they all stood, Ruth was the last to move closer, fear gripping her heart.

"Who's the next of kin?"

They stared at each other and then finally at Ruth, who slowly came out of her stupor.

"Erm, I guess that's me."

"You guess?" The surgeon sounded dubious at best.

"Well, none of us are blood relatives," Lucas offered.

"Then none of you are the proper next of kin."

"How is he?" Ros pushed.

"I can't tell you that. I can only discuss his condition with next of kin…"

And Ruth had heard enough. "If being at his side him for most every day for almost a decade isn't enough then how about I've slept with him and am having his baby?" The doctor stared at her as did the rest of the team. Ruth was non-plussed. "Is that tabloid enough for you?"

Lucas closed in a little on the surgeon when he hesitated to respond, and it had the desired effect.

"L-look, I know who and what you all are… and you don't scare me, bloody-hell-spooks..."

"We don't?" Ros said, moving closer.

"N-no, you don't."

"Fine," Lucas said, "Then I guess you won't mind if we make ourselves at home for the next three weeks while he recuperates. We don't require that much care and feeding really…"

"Oh dear, I mean, no, no, that won't do at all." He looked at Ruth. "Fine, you, almost-pregnant-slash-office-wife girl… You're the next of kin. So, look, he made it through surgery," the doctor paused upon seeing the relieved looks around the room, and his demeanor softened slightly. "But he's not out of the woods quite yet. It's going to be a bit of a trek getting him back to health. The internal damage to his kidneys, lungs and ribs was quite extensive, and I imagine he will be with us in an intensive care bed for at least the next ten days, I should think. After that, we'll see how quickly he progresses."

"C-can I see him?" Ruth queried, her tear-filled sapphire eyes breaking down the doctor's reserve.

"Well, I…I shouldn't."

"Not even for his almost-pregnant-slash-office-wife girl?" Ros asked dangerously.

"Erm, well, I guess that would be all right for the moment."

"For the moment?" Lucas asked.

"Well what exactly am I supposed to say to the _real_ next of kin when they show up Mr…. erm, Mr… what exactly do I call you anyway?"

Lucas smiled his most frightening smile. "Mr. Bloody Hell Spook will do just fine."

"Look, doctor," Ruth looked at his ID badge, "Dr. Langford, it will be awhile before any actual family members of Harry's can arrive, and I'd hate to see him here alone, thinking no one cares enough to come…"

"Ms…?" Ruth just stared at him, and he continued, "Yes, well, never mind that part I guess. You should know that it may be awhile before Mr. Pearce even regains consciousness."

"And isn't that all the more reason that he should have familiar voices around him at least?"

Langford looked at the other spooks. "You work with this every day?" They all nodded and he said, "Good Lord, you have my sympathy…" He looked at Ruth, then, exasperated, "very well, Ms. Almost-pregnant-slash-office-wife, follow me. The rest of you will have to wait out here, and no matter how much Casper you pull, I will not change my mind!"

Ruth walked cautiously into the room, staring at all of the machines, lines, IVs and other medical paraphernalia that was at work, and her eyes landed on the man in the middle of all of it. She pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down. After a moment of staring into his still face that held more cuts and bruises than she had ever seen, she rubbed her hand along the arm closest to her.

"Harry, I'm here. I just want you to know that I'm here with you, and no matter what that damned annoying doctor says, I'm not leaving you. Just because I'm not next of kin and he's dubbed me "almost-pregnant-slash-office-wife-girl" in his very bloody annoying way, I've told him that you shouldn't be alone at a time like this, and well, we don't know exactly when we will be able to reach your family and—" She stopped herself realizing she was rambling on in nervousness but Harry wasn't able to stop her.

And Ruth Evershed broke down sobbing.

"Oh Harry… you've got to be all right you see, because I've no one to stop me when I ramble on like that. I've no one to tell me to stop and take a breath and start over from the top." She rubbed his arm again. "I need you, Harry." She swallowed hard. "I need you more than you will ever know. More than I could ever tell you face-to-face. I know that probably sounds ridiculous. Well, it is ridiculous, but when you're staring at me with those eyes of yours, it unsettles me. It's as if you see right into my soul, Harry Pearce, and that unsettles me.

"I'll share a secret with you, Harry, something I've never admitted to anyone, not even to myself, really. When I was in Cyprus, all that time, living with another man, raising his child, all I could think about was how I wanted that life with you. A day didn't go by when I didn't wonder what you were doing, if you were all right, if you were eating your dinners or merely drinking them. I worried that you wouldn't take care of yourself or get enough sleep. Or worse, I sometimes would have nightmares that you'd been too careless and had been shot."

She lowered the guardrail closest to her and sat on the edge of his bed, taking his hand in hers. "And in the past three days, Harry, there were so many times when I couldn't breathe. I just couldn't take in oxygen because I was scared. I was scared that I would never see you again. I was scared that you wouldn't come home." She traced her left index finger over the top of his hand, while holding it in her right. "That's when I knew that I would never be able to shake loose of you, Harry Pearce. Not in any real sense of that statement. You have to get better, Harry. The Grid is too lonely without you." She rubbed her left hand over his as another sob escaped her lips. "My heart is so empty without you, Harry."

Ruth laid her head carefully down on his chest and within minutes was fast asleep against him.

* * *

Harry stirred in his sleep. He thought he had heard Ruth's voice telling him a story of a time and place far away from London. A place with a different legend. But no, that wasn't it. It wasn't a legend at all. Harry fought the fogginess of his mind and tried to hear her voice, and then he remembered and her final words echoed in his head.

"_My heart is so empty without you…"_

His eyes snapped open and took a moment to adjust. It was dark in the room he was in, and there was the sound of soft beeping and the steady rise and fall of a mechanical bellows. Then he realized he was hooked up to machines, and the bellows sound was a respirator which accounted for the tube in his mouth. He frowned at the heavy weight on his chest. He remembered the beatings, torture, the horrible damp cold, and the sound of gunfire, but his mind was so foggy he couldn't put the pieces together. At least he was no longer cold. As a matter of fact, his mind registered that there was a nice warmth against him.

In the dark he flicked his eyes downward and realized what the warmth was, and despite the tube in his mouth, he smiled. Ruth was curled up against him, having pulled his left arm around her shoulder, she was snuggled into his left side, her head on his chest. The weight on him hurt a little, but the sight of Ruth curled up like that was worth it. He allowed his left hand to trail from her shoulder where it was resting to around her waist, and in her sleep, Ruth pulled his hand tighter around her. He smiled and came to a decision, at least for this one moment.

Harry pressed the call button for the nurse and fairly quickly she appeared. He shushed her with his hands before she awoke Ruth and indicated that he wanted the tube removed, which was greeted in the negative by the nurse. He then indicated he wanted a pad and a pen, which she handed to him, sighing heavily. She had already been tasked with twice the amount of paperwork because of this spook, and now he wanted special favors for him and his pregnant secretary. She was thinking it was too bad she had already signed the secrecy act papers when he thrust the pad under her nose. She read it and glared at him.

"Mr. Pearce," she whispered loudly, "I cannot remove this tube. That is a matter for the doctor to decide. And really, I object to having to whisper and tiptoe around this room because your pregnant secretary is sleeping in your hospital bed!"

Harry's eyes grew wide at the reference, but decided one battle at a time was more than enough in his current state. He grabbed the paper back and scribbled on it again, thrusting it back at her. She read the words on it and glared at him:

_It's __**Sir**__ Harry Pearce, Nurse Ratchet, and you'd better get this tube out now, without so much as disturbing one hair on the head of my pregnant secretary!_

The nurse looked into the blazing amber colored eyes and decided it would be easier to beg for forgiveness from the doctor tomorrow than deal with the spook glaring at her now.

"Fine," was all she said.

And none to gently, "Nurse Ratchet" removed the tube, pressing extra hard on the stitches in Harry's chest, demanding that he cough to remove the flem in his esophagus. And Ruth never stirred. Harry waited until the dreaded nurse was gone, and painfully and slowly bent down to reach Ruth's forehead with his lips. He placed a soft, wet kiss on her skin and a moment later her eyes snapped open, staring into his.

"Harry?" She smiled at him and said sweetly, "Hi."

"Hi," he murmured, his voice low and raspy from all he'd been through.

"Would you like some water?"

"If it means you have to move from where you are at this moment, no."

She smiled at him. "I have to admit, I rather like the rougher, hoarser Harry Pearce." Her brows knitted slightly then. "You should be asleep though, you need to rest."

"Yes, I know," he agreed. "You'll stay here with me?"

She nodded. "You want me to?"

"Yes," he purred.

Harry once again leaned toward her, intending to kiss her forehead, but Ruth tilted her head up towards him, allowing their lips to brush ever so lightly against each other.

"You'll stay then?" He asked cheekily.

"Uh-huh," she said, pressing her lips into his once more.

He had a fleeting thought of what Nurse Ratchet might think if she walked in on the spook kissing his almost-pregnant-office-wife-slash-really-pregnant-secretary. And while his lip curved in a slight smile for a second or so, he was quite content to fall asleep trading feather-light kisses with Ruth, letting her gentle hands brush through the curls on the back of his head, lulling him into a deep and contented sleep.

###


End file.
